


The Dairy Farm of Asmodeus

by VillainousQueer



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Anal Gaping, Anal Play, Anthro Unicorn, Bestiality if you squint, Bladder Control, Bladder Inflation, Bondage, Cervix Fucking, Clit Bondage, Corruption, Dairy Farming, Enemas, Forced Lactation, Hobbit Character, Humiliation, Inflation, Lactation Kink, Livestock kink, Magic, Medical Kink, Mess, Milking Machines, Non-binary character, Other, Predicament Bondage, Pussy Enlargement, Sex Magic, Sex torture, Suspension, Transformation, Unicorns, Warlock Stuff, Warlocks, bathtime torture, enema inflation, menthol torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-28 14:15:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20967926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VillainousQueer/pseuds/VillainousQueer
Summary: Unicorn milk is the greatest known healing substance; Lysander, a novice warlock who decides to ask Asmodeus the Ever-Wounded for patronage, uses some of her skills in the family business to make sure her Master has an unending supply.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Permanent Effects of Michification on Unicorns](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20941793) by [VillainousQueer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VillainousQueer/pseuds/VillainousQueer). 

> This fic was inspired by Permanent Effects of Milchification on Unicorns; but it very quickly turned into something... a little different.
> 
> October 10, 2019: I have edited and polished this, so now the best version is up. nwn

The unicorn woke up in a stall, suspended by a soft leather harness with straps that held her up but still allowed her to stand on her own hooves as soon as she woke. There were also straps around each of her teats, and one that was keeping her tail lifted, exposing her genitalia to the world. She tried to pull it down, but the straps wouldn’t budge. She also couldn’t turn her head, as there was a _halter_ on her. What kind of depraved, proud individual would halter a _unicorn_? The idea was so shocking that she couldn’t really react, even when she heard footsteps, and though she tried to kick cloven hooves out, the harness’ straps kept her helpless.

She soon felt something pouring onto her, under her tail; something that stung like mint, only much stronger, and someone was rubbing it in, making sure to pull back the hood of her clit and get whatever it was underneath, on her tender little clit. It stung terrifically, hot and cold at the same time, and she cried out, struggling, to no avail and no relief.

.oOo.

The God required offerings, and Lysander was very glad she’d figured out how to vouchsafe offerings for the foreseeable future. Lysander’s Master was no eldritch being of tentacles and eyes; at least, His form when shown to mortals was never so alien. He looked like a tall and refined Devil, with wounds all over His body. When first Lysander had knelt to Him, she had offered up what seemed a very logical thing: the powerfully healing milk of a unicorn, purchased at great price from a nursing unicorn. Asmodeus had been pleased with the gift, telling Lysander she was the first to offer something truly valuable to Him.

So, Lysander would have to find a way to give her god a continuous supply. She’d thought it over for some time, and decided the only thing to do would be to catch a unicorn or two and treat them as milchcows. Luckily, she had a lot of experience with milchcows, as well as bondage. She went to a few classes on suspension and full-body restraint, learning about predicament bondage along the way, commissioned leatherwork from her cousin, and worked with a gnomish engineer on the pumps and other equipment. The lubricating growth potion, she made herself. It wasn’t difficult to modify an enlargement salve to accommodate the addition of menthol—which was one of her specialities.

Catching the unicorn had been easy—nobody suspected a hobbit of nefarious deeds, after all—and quite soon, Lysander had her first cow. Now, with gloved hands, she rubbed the salve on the unicorn’s exposed genitalia, making sure to get it into every little fold of the beast’s labia, beneath her hood and on her clitoris, and then inside, Lysander sliding in a speculum coated with the salve, and clicking it until she could move her will-o-wisp to shine inside that vagina, using a long swab to get it on the entirety of the walls, as well as the cervix. The unicorn was struggling, right up until the speculum started to stretch her taut. Lysander smirked to herself as the unicorn went deathly still.

Last of all was the anus, and Lysander rubbed it in little circles, her small hands and the slide of the salve making reaching inside that opening easy, the unicorn’s cries a little shriller at the sting to such sensitive places. Removing the speculum from the vagina, Lysander cleaned her gloves and wheeled over the next step: an enema stand, the liquid in the glass container containing a very warm three gallons of water, mixed with a great quantity of a mentholated laxative that her family used on constipated cows (and naughty faunts). She slid the nozzle in, and it was rather large, unicorns being smaller than cows, but then again, Lysander was rather enjoying the unicorn’s distressed cries. She unclamped the hose, and watched as the enema started to flow in, her own cunny tensing in fond memory of the last time she’d given _herself _an enema.

She loved the feeling of it, the tingling and the desperate and increasing urgency of the laxative potion. Sometimes she took an entire gallon, filling not just her lower bowels, but her upper ones too, pushing her belly out until she looked pregnant. She liked to lock her anus shut with a modified sealing spell, and spend hours just laying on her belly, feeling the pressure, moaning at the urgency…

Ah, but the unicorn was crying, and Lysander watched the enlargement salve already working on that cunny, the menthol causing blood to rush to fill the rapidly-growing flesh of her labia, her clit growing to the size of a cherry, and then a crab-apple, and then a plum… Lysander went over to the unicorn’s side, and palpated her belly, feeling the enema firming it up, and nodded in satisfaction. Good. Everything was going well.

Before she could start the unicorn on the lactation booster, the creature’s insides had to be completely empty, so as to absorb the potion better. Lysander had made a very concentrated version of it, wanting her Master to have as much as possible, wanting to squeeze every last drop from her herd. This unicorn was just the first, Lysander thought, stroking her white-dappled pink hide.

‘Gooooood girl,’ Lysander said, patting her neck. ‘Good girl. You can go in a little while.’ Lysander was sure the frantic struggling and crying was due to the urgency. Three gallons filled the unicorn to bulging, and halfway through, Lysander started rubbing her belly to make sure the solution would reach her small intestine as well. By the end of it, the unicorn was trembling, her belly fat and taut and round. Lysander slid the nozzle out, putting her gloved fingers into the anus to hold the solution in while she reached for the plug, a ball-shaped thing with a narrow neck, and pushed it slowly inside.

The unicorn wobbled unsteadily on her feet when Lysander took her off the suspension hooks, keeping the harness on but detaching it from the various straps that had been holding her new milchdoe still. Lysander made sure to be out of kicking range by then, and shut the door to the stall. The unicorn leapt and kicked and bucked, trying to get free of the plug, which stopped her fast. Lysander just leaned on the stall door and watched, the graceful creature looking defiled already with that bulging belly, the harness, the quim that even now was still growing bigger, bright red in its artificial œstrus; Lysander could see, in flashes, that her cervix was starting to emerge from her vaginal passage.

Excellent. The larger her quim got, the better Lysander could condition her—spanking her when she was naughty, and filling her up when she was good, keeping her hips still with a strap around that clit, which was starting to hang down between the unicorn’s back legs, her labia starting to look like a dwarven milchgoat’s teats, clit swinging between them heavily.

.oOo.

Her cunny was stretched with a horrible hard something, and she felt taut but so horribly empty as it stretched her wider and wider, and the horrible heavy stinging of whatever was being rubbed on her intensified as the creature tormenting her rubbed it _inside her_, coating every inch of her with that awful stuff, before removing the thing holding her wide and granting her a little relief, only to start rubbing her _bottom_, going inside it, pushing something hard and smooth and then something hot was starting to flow inside her, and her insides suddenly felt just like her cunny, stinging cold. With dawning horror, she realised whatever liquid was flowing into her was also making her feel desperate to relieve herself. Yet she was unable to move, yet her bottom was full of something pushing _into_ her. She tried to push it out, but nothing budged, and she cried as the pressure started to increase inside her belly. As it increased, her belly felt heavy and twitchy, and a hand started to push up on her belly, making the pressure worse, mercilessly rubbing her belly in circles, and she felt the warmth go deeper, deeper into her, pressing until something inside gave and flooded her even deeper than she knew was possible.

‘Gooooood girl,’ said a warm voice. ‘Good girl. You can go in a little while.’

Go! Go where? The unicorn thought, frantic. Yet there was nothing she could do but succumb to this person, to their horrors. The pressure inside her grew, and grew, and just when she was sure she would burst, her body took in more, and more, until her belly ached from the stretch, and finally—_finally_—the hard thing was removed. She sighed in relief, only to feel something pushing against her bottom, slow but inexorable, forcing her bottom to open up, stretch with a tight almost-pain around something heavy, and just when she felt the wideness would split her in two, she felt relief all of a sudden, as she passed the widest part and the rest slid home quite quickly, sucked inside by her own body, something flat keeping it from going all the way inside, something holding her bottom open just a little, around the neck of it.

Then, her captor freed her, though she still wore the horrible harness, and the halter, and she first tried to kick her captor, but couldn’t find them to kick, and started trying to buck free of the thing in her bottom, not liking it at all, jumping and bucking and kicking, all of the movements horrible for her fully-stretched belly, but her desperation to be free overriding the discomfort.

She barely noticed her cunny, growing between her thighs, until it started to get big enough to _swing_, and she stopped bucking then, standing and shivering, craning her long neck to see what was happening.

.oOo.

All that movement was going to make the potion inside her work so much faster—which was just what Lysander had planned. She watched the slow realisation the unicorn had about her cunny, watched her turn around and crane her neck to see it, swollen and pink between her thighs, pushing them outward and obliging her to have an udder-waddle, making it impossible for her to sit down—which was just what Lysander wanted. A unicorn that couldn’t sit down was a unicorn that would have to learn to sleep in the suspension harness.

Lysander didn’t believe in free-range milchdoes.


	2. Chapter 2

Lysander let her tire herself out, before coming back into the stall and gently grabbing her halter, leading her back over to the straps to hold her still, passing a strap under her enlarged labia and strapping them snug against her belly so they wouldn’t be messed, and standing to one side to slowly pull the plug from the unicorn’s body, watching as it stretched against her opening, pulled and stretched her anus outward, as it slowly slid free with an obscene pop, and then Lysander kept her harnessed, watching as she cried, her body finally expelling all of the fluid, pushing and pushing and heaving until she was trembling.

Lysander cleaned up, hosed her off, and set her up for another enema. She repeated this process until the fluid coming from the unicorn was clear, and her anus was slack and swollen, Lysander easily able to fit her fist inside it.

Now, it was time for the lactation solution. And _that_ one wouldn’t be expelled. First, however, Lysander led her newest cattle to the feeding trough, which was full of fruit, a unicorn’s staple food, mixed with heavy cream. It would fatten her up, and give her body enough nutrients to start producing the gallons and gallons of milk Lysander’s potion would force her to make. As Lysander hoped, the unicorn was so pleased with the rich food that she ate until her belly was hard and bulging for a different reason, licking up every last drop like a greedy kitten. Lysander stroked her side as she ate, getting her used to the presence of Lysander.

There was a mild relaxant in the food, just in case feeding made unicorns as feisty as other hooved animals, and Lysander found it easy to lead her away from the trough and into the milking stall. She strapped the unicorn in, unstrapping her labia from her belly and instead reaching between her swinging, swollen labia to take hold of that clit, which made the unicorn moan, and soak Lysander’s curly hair with arousal as she knelt between those cloven feet, fitting the loop of a warmth-tightening metal ring around that clit, getting it just past the head before the warmth from the unicorn’s body activated it. Warmth-tightening metal was dead useful, but tricky when it came to using it—you had to move fast. The ring was attached to a leather strap, and Lysander clipped the end to a ring on the floor of the milking stall, pulling the strap’s adjuster tight, tighter, until the unicorn stopped squirming due to the stretch and pull on her most sensitive body part.

Lysander smiled grimly to herself, anticipating the cries when the final dose of enema was inside her. The lactation potion had to be kept at a slightly higher temperature than the other enemas, and it was much thicker, sliding like mercury to the lowest part of anything. It would practically crawl deep inside her of its own accord, filling all the parts that weren’t full of freshly-eaten berries and cream.

The unicorn’s clitoris was huge, Lysander could barely get a hand around it—and the ring around the base of the unicorn’s glans would just slowly tighten, until it reached its ‘home’ dimension of two inches—enough to feel terrifically painful, but not enough to actually harm her. Lysander had a similar ring around the glans of her own clit, and as she held the unicorn’s clit just behind the ring with one hand (which barely fit around it) and used her other hand to rub on the head of the clit with her palm, Lysander felt a squirming warmth in her own hips, well able to imagine what the unicorn felt, and enjoying how she screamed.

Next, she rubbed a swelling potion on the labia, because they didn’t look taut and shiny enough for Lysander’s liking, and watched with satisfaction as the labia rounded and tightened, until they were both shiny and pressed together like a peach, squeezing the clit between them enough to keep it forever aroused, forever flush. She patted them affectionately, knowing it likely felt awful to the oversensitive flesh.

‘Good girl,’ she said, with a wicked smile, and went to pour the waiting lactation potion into the enema’s basin, watching the heavy liquid pour like syrup the colour of lavender cream into the glass basin, and swirl down the much wider enema hose to the clamp, before filling up the basin slowly as Lysander poured. She could just imagine it, and her entire pussy twitched in anticipation, a little jealous of what she was about to put her unicorn through.

At last, filled to the absolute brim, four gallons, which had taken many nights to make, was ready to go inside the unicorn. Lysander winched the basin higher than before, as the potion would coagulate if it cooled, and so she had to work quickly. She rubbed that swollen, utterly relaxed anus with more of the enlarging lubricant, and gently eased in the thicker, wider nozzle. It went deeper than the one for cleaning, as this one was meant to flood her insides.

Gently, but efficiently, she pushed her hand inside, to guide the nozzle deep into her unicorn, the lubricant letting the anus stretch far enough to take her arm to the shoulder (not that her arm was very big), letting her seat the nozzle deep inside, well past the rectum.

And then, sliding her arm out, she inflated the inside of the plug, until it bulged the area around the anus from the inside, and inflated the outside of the plug, effectively trapping that swollen anus between two bulbs. She unclamped the hose, and watched the potion flow rapidly—but it was nothing compared to the screams of the unicorn, who tossed her head, and Lysander watched her belly grow in a very different way.

.oOo.

Her captor repeated her torment, over and over and over, forcing the unicorn to suffer through enema after enema after enema, until the unicorn couldn’t force her body to push anymore, until she trembled, feeling her bottom slack and yet swollen as it never had been, feeling emptier than she’d ever thought possible. Between her thighs, she felt her cunny sway like a cow’s udder with every step, and shame filled her, as she saw it looked exactly like… like she was some common _goat_, waddling around udders made large and larger by two-legged breeding.

And then! Then her captor led her to a trough, and the unicorn was very offended, but had no more ability to toss her head, or refuse the bounty of food—fresh, sweet ripe berries, and thick, luscious cream, and the unicorn ate, and ate, and only thought of filling the void inside her, not caring as her belly ached with fullness—this might be her last meal, she had to eat.

What came after was being led into a cool, dark stall, different from the last one, that was narrow and wouldn’t let her turn around. She felt her captor nudge her back legs farther open, and then slid something hard and cold over the head of her clitty, and then it _tightened, _and she screamed, struggling, until suddenly something _pulled_, pulled her swollen clitty tightly as it had never been pulled before, and every movement might rip it free of its moorings, so she had to hold very still. Of course, that was precisely what her captor wanted.

Said captor started rubbing her cunny petals with something, and they suddenly felt even more swollen, tightening around her clitty, tightening and swelling like she was in the middle of autumn and had met no boy unicorns, and then past that, until she felt buzzy and unable to think from the tingle of arousal.

‘Good girl,’ her captor said, patting her cunny, which only made it _worse_. The unicorn panted, tongue lolling out of her mouth, and was relieved to have nothing further for some time—but it didn’t last. Yet her captor had fully taken away her ability to even toss her head, and all she could do was moan, low and defeated, as her captor turned attention once again to putting things inside her abused little bottom, which was now being stretched again—the unicorn’s eyes widened.

‘No! No! Not another one!’ she begged, feeling a thicker hard thing push inside her. ‘No! No! Please!’

Her captor ignored her pleas—likely not understanding, as they were in Unicorn—and pushed their hand alongside the hard thing, pushed deep and deeper, stretching the unicorn’s bottom out. But now her bottom could _take it_, and that was the worst thing of all.

And then the liquid started coming again, and it was different this time, feeling like molten metal, heavy and hot and fast, and all the unicorn could do was scream.

.oOo.

By the time the last drop of potion was inside the unicorn, she looked pregnant with twins, and her voice had given out. Lysander left the nozzle inside her, removing the hose and screwing a plug into the opening of the nozzle. She wanted to stay, but she needed to clean the equipment, and was very tired from the work—it had been hours, she needed to rest a bit. She left the time-lapse camera-crystals to watch the effect for her, and went to take a much-needed bath.


	3. Chapter 3

The time crawled on, and the heaviness in her belly dominated the unicorn’s entire world; she felt it pulling her body down, felt herself submit to the harness holding her up as her legs gave out, and hated how comfortable the webbing of straps was, hated that her legs naturally spread so wide. She looked down between her front legs, between her teats, and only saw her belly, bulging and hard like it was full of something solid. Her meal suddenly seemed like a punishment.

Then, she felt something stir inside her teats, saw them begin to swell, her nipples darkening, her areolae pushed outward as the skin of her teats became taut, spidered with blue veins, and she was eventually obliged to lift her head, her teats swelling larger and larger, remaining taut, her nipples beginning to leak milk. She didn’t know how much time had passed, but she realised slowly that her belly felt a little less heavy, and that she was starting to be hungry again.

That was about when her captor returned.

‘Oh, good _girl_,’ they said, in a tone of such satisfaction that the unicorn felt sick with shame. She was no milchgoat! She wasn’t!

.oOo.

Lysander saw the teats hanging, tight and ready to be milked, and smiled, ‘Oh, good _girl_,’ she said, and turned on the suction machine, opened a side door of the stall, which let her snake the suction cylinder under the unicorn from the side, rubbing a little of the enlarging lubricant on the nipple and areola, to help them grow, and attaching the first suction cylinder, which quickly sucked the nipple along its length, the combination of suction and the enlargement salve making sure the nipple quickly reached the end of the cylinder, the suction holding it there, flushing red and then darker red.

Lysander attached the other one, then stripped off her gloves. The unicorn wasn’t being milked, not yet—Lysander wanted her nipples nice and long, first. She watched the cylinders, watched how her unicorn was being pulled downward in three directions, drooling with arousal and yet giving little scratchy whimpers of pain, too.

Delicious, Lysander thought, rather jealous of her livestock—perhaps, after Lysander died, her Lord would grant her a life of being livestock for Him. Lysander’s hand strayed to her chest, and she opened her shirt, stroking over the thin, sensitive skin, stretched tight across her pectoral muscles, her fingers tracing the scar.

She envied her unicorn, oh yes—and she would make those teats _huge_, and she would milk the poor thing _dry_. And maybe, if she gave Asmodeus enough milk, He would give her teats of her own, _proper _ones; to train, and enlarge, and milk for Him, though her milk wasn’t healing, not like her unicorn. Yes, she _envied_ her little milchdoe—for her milk’s powers, for her teats, for the pleasure being wrung from her.

Lysander watched, and felt her quim growing flush and wet again, even after receiving attention during Lysander’s bath, the hobbit using all manner of settings on the hand-shower, imagining all kinds of things. Yet seeing her little unicorn, her clit stretched taut and her nipples being sucked and sucked but not yet milked, made her want all over again. She could just see the beast’s cervix trying to poke between those tightly-squeezed labia.

Gorgeous, Lysander thought, and was already looking forward to seeing this happen again, and again, with more unicorns. How many could she catch? she wondered.

She eventually turned off the suction machine, and carefully released the nipples, watching them expand now that they were free, milk leaking from them in a steady stream. Lysander worked as quickly as she could; as much as hand-milking tempted her, she knew she’d ruin her hands trying to keep up with the milk production, and fitted the milking cylinders onto the tubing, switching the suction machine to the milking setting and watching the relief on the unicorn’s face, hearing the low, cracked moans as the pale violet milk was pumped out of her.

Lysander stroked the shaft of that clit, shifting the hood, which was still loose enough to shift up and down, up and down. ‘Gooooood girl,’ Lysander crooned, as the unicorn’s moans got louder. ‘Good girl, that’s it, I’m going to make you perfect for this… that’s it, thaaaaat’s it….’

Eventually, she had to stop, and she left the unicorn there, knowing that, with as much lactation potion as Lysander had stuffed her with, she’d be producing all night, and probably into the morning. Lysander had planned for that, and came to feed her every four hours, not minding the inconvenience. The unicorn was more and more willing each time, her belly smaller and smaller, her teats bigger and bigger, and still the milk kept flowing without end. At midnight, Lysander offered all that was there—six gallons already, that was more than any of the best cows made in an entire _day_—and promised more to come. Asmodeus didn’t reply, but she saw Him take the offering, and that was all she needed.

The unicorn would eventually need to sleep, and she would have to get used to sleeping in the harness, attached to the milking machine. Lysander went about her daily chores, feeding the unicorn more and more each time, mixing butter with the feed to fatten her up. She also rubbed the swollen labia, and stroked the clit, which was the size of a boy unicorn’s cock by now, though it would never get stiff enough to penetrate anything.

Slowly, but faster than Lysander had ever hoped, the unicorn broke, becoming more and more docile, more willing. When Lysander finally removed her plug, leaving her anus gaping and empty, a day (and thirteen gallons of milk) later, and unhooked her from the milking machine, leading her out of the milking stall so she could be washed and allowed to relieve herself, the unicorn no longer struggled, or kicked even half-heartedly.

She went quietly, and Lysander waited for her to do her business and bury it, before gently hosing her off and scrubbing her clean, smoothing the menthol soap over the swollen teats, circling the slack, swollen anus with her fingertips, and the unicorn started to whimper and shift on her hooves as the tingling started to take effect, Lysander reaching down to start rubbing it on that clit, going slow enough to let the unicorn predict what was about to happen, and twitch and shiver with anticipation, just before Lysander tipped the bottle of castile soap over her clit, smoothing her hands up and down the shaft, rubbing it over those fat labia, reaching between them to find that cervix, and reach into that loose vagina, wrapping her hand around the enlarged cervix and pulling, sliding the finger of her other hand into the opening of the cervix, and thrusting back and forth while stroking the cervix’s length.

‘Goood girl,’ Lysander said, grinning. ‘Good girl, that’s it, you’re helpless, you can’t escape, gooooooooood. Goooood.’

.oOo.

The unicorn sobbed, feeling the horrible cold-hot tingling of the soap on her most delicate parts, feeling her captor stroke her, and _hating _how good it felt, how she wasn’t sure if she wanted it to stop, or go on. Her tormentor was crooning to her, now—not just praise, but horrible, twisted reassurances that she was helpless. The unicorn realised this would be it—there would be no ending to this. She was forever changed, warped to this mage’s will, her body forced to make milk, to be nothing but a machine of flesh and bone.

Yet, it was—terrible thought!—somewhat _comforting_, to know that she didn’t need to worry about anything, anymore. Her only predator was her captor, who had no intention of killing her, and that was a kind of comfort; she didn’t need to worry about food, for her captor fed her more than she’d ever eaten in the wild. True, there was horrible stinging with all the torments, and pain; but there was pleasure, too, more pleasure than she’d ever known.

Curse her for thinking it, but she was… she was starting to _like_ it, starting to _like_ being tormented, used, _broken_ like some common dobbin.

She felt her tormentor turn the hose on her again, and the pressure was increased, rinsing the soap from every fold of her now-massive cunny, rinsing it from inside her, the warm water bouncing off her before suddenly the hose’s stream was shooting _into_ her, into not just her cunny but her _bladder_, and she whimpered as she felt her bladder fill, and fill, and fill, the high pressure like nothing she’d ever felt.

‘Good girl, goooood girl, that’s it, that’s it… gonna rinse you aaaaaall out, make sure you’re aaaaaall clean….’

They took the hose away, and the pressure made it so the unicorn couldn’t but release, sobbing as her bladder emptied with more force than she’d ever felt before. It was, like the enemas, terrible but somehow cathartic, and she screamed, which only pushed it harder, until she was panting and shaking and empty. Would her tormentor do it again, the unicorn wondered, as they had with her bottom? But that didn’t seem to be on her tormentor’s mind, and the hose soon finished its work, and she was allowed to shake herself, before being led into the milking stall again, given another meal that she ate greedily—she was so hungry—and while she ate, her captor eased her aching nipples into the cylinders again, and she moaned into her food as she felt the sweet relief of the milking.

.oOo.

The milchdoe ate, and ate, and did not grow fatter, but only produced more and more milk, only detached from the machine once a day for necessary maintenance of her body. Lysander had to carefully consider hiring someone to take care of her; but, as unicorns were considered so pure and sacred, it would be difficult to be sure that any hireling wouldn’t just set the creature free out of pity. Lysander decided to turn to her patron for advice, and received signs that she could trust a machine, or automaton, and immediately set her gnomish friend to making one. The machine had feelings, but only in the sense of feeling loyalty to Lysander. It took care of the milchdoe at night, and Lysander slowly allowed it more and more duties, until she was free to capture another unicorn—this time, she thought, she wouldn’t make her produce _quite_ so much—there were things she had wanted to do that she couldn’t, because the milking was so constant.

Still, it had been a very good first experiment, and she was loath to make her first milchdoe produce _less_. Not when Himself had gotten used to the thirteen gallons Lysander offered on a daily basis.

**Author's Note:**

> I have [a discord server](https://discord.gg/uVJR3ad), come on by and see me sometime!


End file.
